Limitations

Henrietta Cordelia Ray, 1848 – 1916

The subtlest strain a great musician weaves,

Cannot attain in rhythmic harmony

To music in his soul. May it not be

Celestial lyres send hints to him? He grieves

That half the sweetness of the song, he leaves

Unheard in the transition. Thus do we

Yearn to translate the wondrous majesty

Of some rare mood, when the rapt soul receives

A vision exquisite. Yet who can match

The sunset’s iridescent hues? Who sing

The skylark’s ecstasy so seraph-fine?

We struggle vainly, still we fain would catch

Such rifts amid life’s shadows, for they bring

Glimpses ineffable of things divine.